


Justin's Happy Friday

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, No Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-07
Updated: 2004-07-10
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:28:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: On one oh-so-random Friday morning, Justin's life gets a little strange.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Friday morning Justin rolled out from under the warm duvet and walked over icy floors to wrap himself under the heated spray of the loft’s shower. His routine was usually the same every morning: wake up, shower, dress, breakfast, cartoons, diner shift. The only difference came when Justin woke before Brian left for work. Naturally, Justin’s schedule was then adjusted with a fuck before leaving the bed, a blow job mid shower, and/or a quiet conversation over coffee. Occasionally Brian even pretended not to watch Scooby Doo while he went over a presentation for a meeting scheduled first thing in the morning.

But on this particular morning, specifically the morning of March 20th, 2004, as Justin got to the third floor landing on his way to the diner, things started getting twilight zone. Mr. Mackey, the uptight manager of the grocery on Jackson Street, smiled warmly at him for the first time in the three years Justin had been visiting said third floor landing. The only reason Justin even recognized him was two years previous Mr. Mackey and the disgruntled building super, Bob, had interrupted Brian and Justin mid-fuck at 4 a.m. in order to make sure the loud human moans echoing throughout the building were not induced by near death or severe bloodletting torture. Brian assured them that his choice weapon was merely cock and the only thing murdered had been poor little Justin’s asshole. Justin had never seen two grown men look more vandalized in his entire life. After deciding that having disturbed only two people was disappointing, Justin decided to take matters in his own hands, and fucked Brian so hard that he swore that car alarm that went off had nothing to do with breaking and entering. Well…breaking and entering the car that is.

Definitely a night for the Hall of Fucking Fame.

Walking down Tremont, the weirdness continued. People he passed every morning without as much as a single glance began smiling, nodding, giving out random morning greetings and good day wishes.

Rounding the corner of Tremont onto Liberty Avenue, Justin felt a hand grab his already defensively postured elbow. Jerking away sharply, he turned to glare at the intruder. In place of the leather daddy he had imagined was the homeless lady, Mother Liberty, to whom Justin frequently brought leftovers from the diner. Scouring his brain, Justin was positive the woman had never acknowledged his existence beyond taking the Styrofoam container he offered several times a week.

“Young man, God has a message for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve heard of Him, right?”

“Um…sure, in a figurative kind of way.”

“Well, He wants to wish you a happy Friday.”

“Happy Friday?”

But now she just stared back at him stoically, before turning around to waddle away.

“Uh…you too!” Justin shouted at her hunched back.

Continuing his way down Liberty, Justin received more greetings and well wishes. It was all becoming a little overwhelming. That cold trembling feeling he used to get after the bashing walking down a crowded street was beginning to rear its ugly head. His forehead began to sweat despite the cool morning breeze and left over snow.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck is going on?” he asked out loud, hunching his shoulders and tucking in his chin protectively. 

He didn’t look up until he reached the two deep cracks that had converged on the sidewalk directly in front of the diner since the first day he stepped onto Liberty and out of the closet.

Stopping short of the door, Justin let out a sharp gasp and stepped back. In big neon rainbow letters above the door was a new sign-no doubt Debbie’s doing, who else thought neon was a GOOD thing?-that read:

HAPPY FRIDAY SUNSHINE!!!

Of course, it goes without saying that both letter I’s were rather large phallic symbols with smiley faces…their tongues stuck out.

“Holy fucking fucked up fuck!”

Opening the door, Justin apprehensively stepped foot into the warm surroundings of his third home greeted this time by more than just the smell of burning grease and last night’s gossip. Everywhere he looked there were posters, flags, flyers, and even fucking people wearing t-shirts with Happy Friday Justin! written across them.

Almost immediately Debbie appeared from behind the counter grabbing him in a stronghold she called a hug.

“Happy Friday Sunshine!” She replied letting him breathe again as she stepped back. Justin now noticed the large ironed on picture of his face, mid orgasm, conveniently placed over her tits. He had had enough.

“What the fuck is going on, Deb? Why the fuck is everyone wishing me a happy Friday? Who the hell put you to this? And where in God’s name did you get that picture?”

“Oh sweetie, I can’t tell and *this time* the secret’s worth keeping. You just make sure to have a fucking fantastic god-damned day. Now get your bubble butt in an apron, table 6 is waiting.” She smacked his cheek playfully, and he could have sworn there were tears in her eyes.


	2. Justin's Happy Friday

Author’s Note: Sorry this part is so short, but I had it finished so I just went ahead and posted it. At most the story only has 2 or 3 more parts, so things should start getting clearer soon. Let me know if you’re still interested in finding out what’s really going on.

* * *

Happy tears of course.

Four hours later Justin’s shift was over, but his confusion had only grown deeper. He was always being hit on by the diner’s patrons, but today he had collected a record high 43! numbers. And on each little slip of paper was written Happy Friday! No one would answer his questions. But Justin was beginning to get a sneaky feeling that a certain Liberty Avenue stud had to be behind said confusion. Who the fuck else could pull something of this nature off? And Justin still didn’t have an answer as to why.

Justin’s next stop would be PIFA. Although he had bitched and moaned at the thought of returning to such a close-minded institution, Justin had to admit his art was what made him happiest. 

Cutting across Liberty to the bus stop, Justin was soon surrounded by what seemed to be a school group. Children in uniforms about the age of six or seven encircled him, grinning like idiots. A little red haired girl, who reminded him of Molly, stepped forward. 

Grabbing his shirt so he’d lean down she asked, “Are you Mr. Sunshine?”

“I have a feeling that I most certainly am Mr. Sunshine. Are you my fairy godmother?”

Giggling shyly she said, “No, I’m Mary, but Happy Friday Mr. Sunshine!”

The rest of the children immediately went into a rather colorful rendition of “Happy Friday to Sunshine.” Even the rather curt looking teacher joined in.

‘This is *too* weird,’ Justin thought. ‘How the hell could Brian have pulled this off? He despises all children except Gus. Perhaps that E Brian’s new dealer, Doc Emazing, have given them had induced some sort of delusion that he hadn’t yet waken up from. But yesterday he’d been alright, hadn’t he? And the E trip had been *two* days ago.

Justin thanked the children as the bus pulled up to the stop. Still trying to wrap his head around the morning’s antics, Justin dropped some quarters into the meter and began his journey to the back.

“Justin Taylor?” questioned the bus driver.

‘Oh God, not again.’ Justin turned around to face the tiny, wrinkled little lady that had been driving this route since he started the IFA. Betty was her name and now she sat holding what appeared to be a paper rose.

“That’s right, ma’m. I’m Justin.”

“Then hear ya go dear. Wouldn’t want you to have any less than a happy Friday, now would we?”

Resigned to the psychosis around him, Justin grabbed the rose and thanked her as he turned to walk to the back of the bus. He was going to have to seriously start considering therapy if he was already experiencing premature senility.

But when Justin turned to look at the bus’s occupants, he was shocked to see that all the passengers had roses; red, blue, black, yellow, silver, white, even rain bowed. All he could do was accept the flowers as generously as he could muster. 

Taking out his cell phone, Justin sat down determined to find the truth, even if said truth meant hospitalization.


	3. Justin's Happy Friday

“Kinnetik Inc., Cynthia speaking. How may I direct your call?”

“Cynthia, this is Justin. I need to speak to Brian. Tell him it’s urgent.”

“Is everything alright? Is Gus okay? Are you okay?”

“No one’s hurt Cynthia. More of a personal matter really. Just please get him,” Justin pleaded.

Telling him to hold on, Cynthia walked directly into Brian’s office without giving a flying fuck what he was up to.

“Brian, Justin’s on the phone and he sounds upset. He says he needs to speak with you immediately!”

Without looking up from his computer Brian mumbled, “Justin’s alright Cyn, tell him I’m in quarterly financial meetings all day and I’ll see him at home.”

“Oh no you don’t, you arrogant son of a bitch. You are not making me the uber bitch this time. Pick up the fucking phone and tell him yourself.” Cynthia turned around on her heels and marched out.

Brian picked up the phone, pressed 1, and prepared for a performance from his favorite drama queen.

“Hello, Mr. Taylor. What business do you wish to discuss on this fine Friday afternoon?”

“What the fuck is going on Brian? And don’t you pretend that you have no idea what I’m referring to. Who the hell else would have a picture of me mid orgasm?” Justin asked in a loud, harsh whisper. Brian looked at his watch, 12:35. Justin would most likely be en route to PIFA courtesy of Pittsburgh’s fine public transportation system.

“As much as I would really love to continue this conversation, I have a one o’clock that I must prepare for Sunshine. Surely you can understand the need to be prepared for the unknown. And I must say this new client definitely has something up his sleeve. Now you have a good day at school dear, and I’ll see you back at the loft later.” Grinning cheekily, Brian hung up the phone and pulled out his new client’s files.

Back on the bus, Justin was disgusted and now utterly convinced that Brian was the mastermind of all the morning’s weirdness. But Brian hadn’t wished Justin a Happy Friday. So far every person he had come in contact with had in some manner spouted cheesy merry wishes at him. Justin wasn’t sure the phone call had cleared anything up; in fact, he might possibly be more confused.

Fifteen minutes later, Justin was on his way to class, twenty roses crammed into this messenger bag. On Fridays, the only class he had was Renaissance Art. While the subject was interesting, the lecturer was definitely not. Walking into the classroom, Justin took his seat in the third row of the left section. As his classmates began filing in, Justin readied himself for more chaos. Much to his surprise, he received no more than a smile. Everyone behaved normally, no out-of-character dramas. 

But that aspect in itself worried Justin. And to be honest, he was slightly disappointed.

At one sharp, Professor Lander walked to the front of lecture stage, taking his place behind the podium. Today’s topic was religious art in the age of “rebirth.” True to his monotone teaching style, Prof. Lander spit back textbook information to his pupils while the projector displayed every piece he discussed. 

‘This guy needs a new routine’ Justin thought as his eyes began to get heavy. Brian had worn him out the night before and now was the perfect time to catch up on sleep. Especially considering Justin planned to kill Brian slowly for fucking with his brain so much. And then of course Justin planned on letting Brian apologize to his asshole, even if he wasn’t the guilty part.

During his contemplative state, the older brunette woman who always sat beside Justin began looking at him strangely. Justin ignored her. He also ignored the three people in front of him and the four people to his right. But when old Lander began sneaking looks in his directions Justin knew something was yet again amiss. Looking around frantically, Justin tried to spot what had grabbed everyone’s interests. Brenda, the brunette beside him, took pity and pointed towards the projector.

At first, Justin didn’t understand. It was just a painting. He looked back at her confused.

“Top right corner,” she directed.

Looking back, there it was. ‘Happy Friday Justin’ was written on the slide. When the projector changed slides, the message was written on that one as well. He had been the last student to see it, but definitely not the most surprised. Even Lander looked slightly confused.

“Mr. Taylor, it looks like someone went to extreme measures to communicate with you today. Please do tell what the importance of today is. We as a class would love to know who or what has caused this interruption.”

Now this little production was getting him in trouble. And now Justin was pissed. He had no fucking clue what to say.

“Professor Lander I can assure you I have no idea what’s going on. All day I’ve been the victim of these ruthless attacks. I’m looking for answers as well. But I apologize profusely for causing interruptions.”

The class chuckled at Justin’s embarrassment and Landers went on with his lecture. 

After class Justin was going to the loft to hide, as well to prepare himself for war. Brian was in deep shit trouble. The least he could have done was wish Justin a Happy fucking Friday as well.


	4. Justin's Happy Friday

_Author's Note: Being the big fat liar that I am, I decided to post the last part in two sections. I'm evil, I know. But I really am having a blast with this story. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Life at the loft was uneventful that Friday afternoon, barring a couple of phone calls from the gang. Justin painted, watched a stupid documentary on housewives, and trolled the internet conceitedly trying to find a hotter ass than his. He, of course, couldn’t find one. Boredom equaled bliss.

Justin began expecting Brian around seven. On a normal day he might have cooked, but fuck Brian who fucked normal right out the door.

At 7:19, Brian pulled the door along its track and entered what could quite possibly go down as WWIII. Justin, sitting at the computer, glared in his general direction.

Brian didn’t even bother to glance Justin’s way before he was headed to the bedroom, shedding work clothes in the process. Justin figured this was his war tactic. Distract Justin with horniness. But Justin had always been ‘on to’ Brian’s little charades, he didn’t budge. 

A few minutes later, Brian walked out in what appeared to be Kinney war tactic #2, *those* jeans, sans underwear, top button undone, and *yes*-- the dreaded black wife beater. ‘He’s good,’ Justin surmised.

“Want Chinese?” Brian asked.

“Huh?” came the reply. Obviously, Justin’s strategic comeback was left lacking. 

“Chinese? Food? Dinner? What most people would consider normal human behavior. Too much for ya Sunshine?” Brian smirked at Justin, tongue in cheek.

Justin seethed when he heard the word normal escape Brian’s lips; Brian’s full, soft, talented lips. ‘Fuck Taylor, just throw up the white flag before the first battle. You really are a pussy.’ Getting back to seething, Justin stood abruptly, knocking the chair on its side.

“You’re good Kinney, really good. First the stripping, then the fuck me ensemble, and now the ‘Justin’s stomach is a bottomless pit tactic’, but you’re not going to win this time.”

Brian walked past Justin to pick up the fallen computer chair. Sitting down, Brian looked at Justin. He had the audacity to look confused.

“What the fuck were you smoking, Justin? I just want some god dammed food before I fuck your brains out. What’s eating your ass?”

Sometimes Brian was unbearable, and right now was one of those times. Justin, cheeks flushing with anger, forgo strategic move planning and leaped head first into bloodshed.

“You’ve got some motherfucking nerve to play that innocent bullshit crap with me! You know damn well what I’m pissed about. All day I’ve been stalked by crazy people who somehow, someway not only know my god dammed name, but are also privy to some kind of information that, I, Justin fucking Sunshine Taylor, am not. This was like the Friday from hell. Worst than any Twilight Zone episode ever made, and don’t give that look like you don’t know what the fuck Twilight Zone is. You are the biggest closet Zone fag ever! At least those shows had a fucking symbolic meaning! Where the hell is my symbol, Brian? Happy Friday is a bit ambiguous. How about helping me out with the subtext and saving me the medical costs of institutionalization!”

Justin was panting, oozing anger. Although a noble effort, the only reply he received was a composed:

“I bet you can’t even spell institutionalization.”

Deciding he had lost the first battle, Justin attacked Brian. He straddled Brian’s hips, grabbing his hair and pulling Brian’s lips to his. Brian gasped at Justin’s fervor. Hands were everywhere, wildly clutching whatever crossed their path. Justin gripped Brian’s arms so hard, his fingernails drew blood. Their tongues took over the fighting, but there was no tactic, no plan to follow; only a sloppy, passionate duel that left both breathless. Sucking Brian’s tongue into his mouth, Justin set out to win the war.


	5. Justin's Happy Friday

Minutes earlier, Brian had stood from the chair, carrying Justin towards the bed. Justin had wrapped his legs tightly around Brian’s waist, rubbing their cocks together.

Now the two men were deep in the throes of passion. Rolling a condom on, Brian pinned Justin’s arms to the bed, and without lube or preparation, shoved his dick up Justin’s ass. Machine guns were highly overrated. 

For a few moments, Justin got lost in the sensations of Brian’s brutal pounding. Coherent thought was lost, the day’s events fucked thoroughly away, until Brian made his fatal mistake. Stopping just long enough to attempt turning Justin over on his stomach, Brian gave Justin just the window of opportunity he needed.

Much to Brian’s surprise, Justin had him on his back, riding his cock for all his bubble butt was worth, in three seconds flat.

Brian watched as Justin resumed his thrown of power. The sneak attack was always brilliant, especially when it revolved the talented constrictions of Justin’s asshole.

Justin unmercifully fucked himself hard on Brian’s cock. He was in control. Opening himself on the down stroke and tightening fiercely on the upstroke had Brian babbling some sort of secret code between moans. Concentrating on remaining in focus, Justin made sure Brian’s dick stayed as far away from his prostate as possible. Justin, if nothing else, knew his downfalls.

Brian was on the verge of coming, when Justin suddenly stopped moving. He was sitting fully impaled on Brian’s cock, grinning wickedly. Trying to catch his breath, Brian looked up, eyes dark with lust.

“Keep going you little shit!”

Torturously, Justin began a slow, circular motion with his hips. Brian’s eyes closed and he let out a moan louder than any battle cry Justin had every heard. Justin’s movements were hypnotic. Brian’s whole body dripped sweat. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Justin barely moving, smug look plastered across his face.

“What’s the fucking symbol Brian?”

“What?” Brian barely managed to croak out.

Justin now moved his hips impossibly slower. Brian had no options other than surrender.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Justin! I just wanted to give you something worthwhile to achieve. Something I couldn’t make up god dammed stupid anti-celebration excuses over! Now if you don’t get your ass moving, I swear to the god of cock I’ll never fuck you again!”

Justin’s brain recalled a conversation in a crowded Babylon some 365 days earlier. Completely speechless, he just sat looking at Brian stupidly.

“Justin…”  
“But that’s tomorrow, not today. Don’t you even know…”

Brian interrupted, getting into a seated position in order to take matters into his own hands.

“Look Justin, I fucking know what tomorrow is. And I fucking know what today isn’t. But I can only break so many rules for you at a time. Give me a fucking break, I already feel lesbianic enough. If today sucked so bad, I promise to never try another feeble attempt at *feelings* again.”

With that, Brian pushed Justin on his back and began thrusting furiously. 

Justin lay completely submissive for a minute, lost in his own thoughts, ignoring the beating his ass was taking.

“Brian…”

“God Justin, stop talking and start fucking.”

Justin sat up pushing Brian away. Brian groaned at having his dick ripped from Justin’s tight ass.

“Fuck you, Brian,” Justin said quietly, looking Brian directly in the eyes.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to get at Sunshine,” answered Brian just as quietly.

Justin moved towards Brian tentatively, not breaking eye contact. After all the bickering and complaining, he finally understood what all today’s craziness symbolized in Brian’s mind. In his own fucked up way, Brian was trying to correct old wrongs. As difficult as Brian made this crazy little thing called love, Justin knew he’d have it no other way. Brian had surrendered long ago. Softly threading his hand through Brian’s hair, Justin whispered smoothly and seductively into Brian’s ear.

“I’m sorry I never fully understood the greatness that *is* The Twilight Zone. Now fuck my ass so hard I scream”

Smiling, Brian did as Justin said.

Several hours and a box of condoms later, Justin was wrapped around Brian’s body as both tried to relax after their last fuck. Both revealed in the soreness of a well-fucked asshole. Unconsciously, Brian ran his hand down Justin’s arm and wrapped his fingers around Justin’s wrist. Finding Justin’s pulse, Brian began slowly tapping his fingertips against it. He didn’t tap in time to Justin’s rapid heartbeat. He instead chose a slower beat. And Justin was amazed when his breath returned to normal, and his heartbeat slowed to keep exact time with Brian’s tapping.

“Bri?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you do it? I mean, I can understand Liberty Avenue, the diner, and Debbie. But how did you know about those children, and my bus route? Not to mention my class today. Jesus, even Lander didn’t know what the hell was going on.”

“It’s my amazing mind control capabilities. Either that or you underestimate my listening skills Sunshine.”

Justin felt a twinge of guilt at that last remark.

“But Brian, there’s never a school group at my bus stop. Not one time, so there’s no way I could have told you that.”

“Well, a super hero has to have his secrets. And life lesson one trillion Sunshine, money talks. Now get some sleep before I wake you up in a few hours for another round.”

Deciding that the details didn’t really matter in the end, Justin shut his eyes, leaning back into Brian. Wrapping his arm tightly around Justin, Brian resumed his calming technique at Justin’s wrist. And in the last seconds before Saturday, March 21st, 2004, none other than Justin’s 20th birthday, Brian whispered “Happy Friday Sunshine” in Justin’s ear as both men drifted off to the rhythm of two fingers and one heartbeat.

* * *

_Author’s Note: I wrote this because I've always wished they would show Justin's next birthday on the show. Brian definitely needed to kiss major ass after Justin's 19th. I wonder if one day Justin will ever get revenge? *laughs evilly*_


End file.
